


Episode 2: The Soda Incident

by c000kiesandcream



Series: The One with the Sitcom AU [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, New York, POV Audience, POV Third Person, Sitcom, Sitcom AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 17:05:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9617111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/c000kiesandcream/pseuds/c000kiesandcream
Summary: The boys receive an invitation to a party, and Phichit meets Victor.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my goodness, I cannot believe my first chapter got 150 hits! That's so much more than I thought it would get, and I hope this next chapter lives up to whatever expectations the first left!

A couple of weeks had passed since Victor and Chris had moved in opposite Yuuri and Phichit, and as it stood, they hadn’t interacted very much. Not that Yuuri had  _avoided_  them, per say, it was just that their lives ran on different clocks. It was not unusual for Yuuri, who was on his way to the newspaper offices, to bump into Chris at 6:30am, as he was on his way to bed. When this happened, Chris smiled at Yuuri, winking as he snuck back into his apartment. He hadn’t seen Victor apart from one brief passing at the mailboxes downstairs, where Victor had smiled at him as he headed out the doors. Yuuri hadn’t had a chance to smile back, and he didn’t notice that he had forgotten the mail was supposed to be collecting until he sat down on the couch in his apartment, empty handed.

Yuuri had found himself often wondering how Victor felt about Chris’s lifestyle. He wasn’t one to pass judgement, but the fact that they lived together  _obviously_  showed that they were at a serious point in their relationship, and when he had seen them together the first day they moved in, they definitely _acted_ like a couple that had been in a comfortable relationship for a while. But Chris was _always_ out, way more than Victor was. It was possible that Yuuri just missed him coming back because he was always back at a more reasonable hour, but Yuuri found it difficult to believe that anyone could be  _happy_  in a situation like that. Perhaps it came with the lifestyle. Two young, attractive models had a reputation to uphold, and many public appearacnes to make. Yuuri was glad he was just a college student.

It was the beginning of October, and rain pattered on the windowpane, casting shadows across the ottoman that ran along the length of the window, dappling the floor and furniture that lay even deeper in the centre of the room with a grey light. Despite the weather, it wasn’t dark, and Yuuri, who was watching a documentary on Gothic architecture, didn’t need the lights on as he took his notes, pausing the TV every couple of minutes or so to messily jot down some date or fact. The letterbox behind him clicked, causing him to whip his head round just in time to see a slip of white paper settle on the floor. He paused the documentary. It was easy to forget they even  _had_ a letter box, since they didn’t really  _need_ one in an apartment block like this. It still didn’t stop people from pinning their takeout menus to their pristine door. He awkwardly ambled over the back of the couch, sinking into the fabric slightly in an attempt to get to the door quicker. 

Snatching the paper up, he noticed how light it felt in his hand. It was almost as if it was made of tissue paper. He held it up to the light, and he could see pretty much straight through it. When he opened it, a sprinkle of glitter fell to the floor. He knew exactly who it was from. The light blue calligraphy read:

_You are cordially invited to the housewarming of Christophe Giacometti and Victor Nikiforov._

_Please bring either a dish or a beverage._

_Répondez, s'il vous plaît:_

_Attending_ ❒  _Not Attending_ ❒

Yuuri just stared at the paper. It looked like a wedding invitation. The edges of the paper were scalloped, and bits of glitter still sparkled over the lettering in the morning light. 

He pinned it to the fridge with a magnet, standing with his hands on his hips in front of it. When Yuuri moved in, Phichit had already been living here for over a year, so there was no need for a full-blown welcome party. They had invited some of the other international students around for a get-together, which mostly consisted of playing Cards Against Humanity and drinking cheap wine. It was one of Yuuri’s fondest memories since moving to New York two years ago. He was always low-key, forever understated, preferring not to draw attention to himself.

He grabbed the magnetic pen they used for grocery lists and ticked the first box, before snapping the pen back on the fridge and returning to his documentary.

* * *

‘Yuuri?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Why is there glitter everywhere?’

Yuuri didn’t glance up from his laptop as the door snapped shut, finishing a thought before responding.

‘It’s on the fridge,’ he said, scrolling through his essay. He was checking the references, and tapping in words he had forgotten in the heat of the moment. He heard a snort from the kitchen, and this is when he chose to look up.

‘We’re  _cordially invited_? Why are they so extra?’ Phichit laughed as he pulled the invitation off the fridge, and was inspecting it closely. ‘The marker bled through,’ he muttered, rubbing at the small black smudge on the metallic surface of the fridge. Yuuri looked back down at his laptop, erasing a spelling mistake and correcting it.

‘Sorry. I figured you’d want to go?’ Phichit nodded in response, but turned the invitation over in his hands.

‘There’s no date, no time?’ He inspected the front again, before pinning it back under the magnet.

‘Perhaps it’s tonight,’ Yuuri offered, and Phichit shrugged.

‘Perhaps. Have you seen them at all?’ Yuuri shook his head, just as there was a sharp knock at the door.

Both boys looked at each other, blinking. They shared the same friends, who were welcome in the buiding, and had taken to walking in of their own accord as and when they felt like it, as neither of them locked the door very often. Phichit’s dad hired security to roam the halls of his apartment building, which was part of the reason why the rent was so high. That, and the fact it was a luxury building filled with high-profile celebrities and business owners. 

The letter box clicked open, and Yuuri spotted a flash of silver and teal.

‘Hellloooo? Yuuri? I can see you, Yuuri!’ Victor’s mouth became visible as he sang Yuuri’s name into the apartment.

‘Hey, it’s open!’ Phichit called, and the door swung open

Victor stood in the doorway with a hand on his hip, and his other hand playing with the hair that framed his face. Today his hair had been wrapped into a bun, leaving more strands than usual to hang down. He had on a pair of yoga pants and a tank top, the bottoms were a pastel blue, while the top was a soft, complimentary grey, that hung loosely on his shoulders to just below his hips. He smiled widely when Yuuri looked at him, causing Yuuri’s cheeks to flush, and his eyes to look back down at his work.

‘Why do you not lock your doors?’ Victor turned to Phichit, who shrugged.

‘Bouncers, and I don’t even know where my keys are,’ he pulled a bottle of soda out of the fridge, and offered it to Victor, who held his hand up to decline. 

‘No, thank you- I’m sorry, have we met? I was just stopping by to ask if you were coming to our party later?’ He smiled, and turned to Yuuri when he said this.

‘We will be! I’ll bring something alcoholic, any particular preference? I’m Phichit by the way, Phichit Chulanont,’ Phichit, had moved around the table and was holding a hand out for Victor to shake, who took it in both hands. Phichit grinned at this, and glanced back at Yuuri.

‘Whatever you like,’ he said. His voice was gentle, and it made the hairs on the back of Yuuri’s neck stand on end. He stared at the word ‘Brontë’ on his laptop, hoping he didn’t burn a hole through the screen. When Yuuri looked back up, Phichit was leaning against one of the beams in the centre of the room, and Victor was backing out, waving.

‘Nice to meet you, Phichit! And Yuuri, always a pleasure,’ he purred, smiling and glancing down his nose at the boy who had sunk deeper into the cushions. Phichit looked between the two, and Victor nodded once as he shut the door. A bottle of soda soared through the air, hitting Yuuri on the shoulder.

'Hey!' Yuuri whipped his head round, and Phichit was stood with his arm outstretched, as though he’d just thrown a slam dunk.

‘Man, you’ve got it  _bad,_ Yuuri!’ He held his hands up to catch the soda that Yuuri threw back at him, walking towards the couch as he twisted the plastic cap open. The bottle exploded in his hands, spraying his white shirt, the back of the sofa and Yuuri's head with soda.

'Aw, come on!' Yuuri stood up, as Phichit dropped the bottle and it continued to froth over. Phichit just stood with his hands up, eyes clenched shut to stop the soda from dripping into his eyes. Yuuri sighed, and walked round the puddle that surrounded Phichit to get to the supplies cupboard next to the bathroom.

‘You sure do make me work for my room,’ Yuuri got to work cleaning up the soda, while Phichit jumped over him and headed into the bathroom to clean up.

‘Well, a once-a-week soda incident is better than the ridiculous rent fees,’ Phichit called from the bathroom.

‘I hope you’re not using the white towels your dad got you,’ Yuuri called back, having mopped up most of the soda from the floor. The silence from the bathroom was suspicious, and he looked up to see Phichit shuffling out the door with a bundle behind his back. Yuuri sighed, pushing his glasses up as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Phichit just stood and grinned at him.

‘Looks like it’s laundry day!’

* * *

The melodic rumble of the two machines in use in the basement made for excellent background noise while Yuuri proofread his essay. Using the last of Phichit’s ink as revenge for the soda incident, Yuuri had printed his essay, and carefully laid it on the top of the laundry basket, tucking a highlighter and a pencil behind each ear before taking the elevator down to the utility room.

The utility room was bright, even though there were no windows. It housed 10 top of the range washing machines and 8 dryers. While this may seem like a small amount, the facilities were rarely used by the patrons of Providence Place. If they were, Yuuri never encountered the residents themselves. Occasionally, Yuuri met the PAs of the residents, familiar straight faces that were usually on the phone. As Yuuri was essentially Phichit’s hired help, he found himself down here a few times a month. Phichit was not the most dextrous of people, and this combined with his magnetic attraction to mess made sure that Yuuri always had something to clean up.

He had pre-soaked the fabrics upstairs, so all he needed was to lather up the soaps correctly and wash off the remnants of Phichit’s stupidity. This would give him enough time to manually edit his essay on his paper, and being away from the apartment meant being away from the distraction that was his roommate. He had left Phichit on the sofa in his underwear, eating cereal from the box and watching Wheel of Fortune, an ordeal that usually ended in Phichit screaming the (wrong) answers angrily at the contestants, leaving Yuuri with a tension headache.

He pulled himself up onto the folding counter that lay next to the machine, wondering who was using the other machine, and why they had left their laundry unattended. Yuuri was grateful that they had, as it gave him some quiet time, so he pulled the highlighter from behind his ear, and started reading through his work.

He continued to work through his essay until the machine pinged that it was done. Hopping off the counter so he could transfer the laundry to the dryer, he opened the machine and started transferring the wet clothes over before his phone buzzed. He tapped the buttons so that it would start. This was going to take longer than the hour quick-dry, but he hadn’t finished his essay, so he resumed his position on the side, turning the page to read the rest of his essay. Just as he got to the bottom of the page, the machine opposite him pinged to say the clothes inside were clean. He looked up, and at the elevator, but it didn’t look like anyone was on their way down. The dryer was a softer sound, and Yuuri realised there was music playing from somewhere in the room. He looked up, and noticed a speaker, out of which he could hear the tinkling of a piano, playing a classical song he had heard before but could not name. He smiled, as he continued to read through the rest of his paper.

The time passed relatively quickly, and it wasn’t long before the dryer beeped to say it was finished. Yuuri carefully folded the laundry, glancing at the final page of his essay, stopping to make a note once or twice. He piled the clean laundry into the basket, and placed his essay carefully on the top. The elevator pinged after he pressed the button, and Yuuri stepped into it, not looking up from the final sentences of the conclusion of his essay. He always became engrossed when he worked, his impeccable attention to detail often getting the better of him. By the time he got to his floor, he had finished his work, and tucked the pencil behind his ear again, balancing the basket on his leg. He strolled down the hallway, and just as he reached the yellow door, he heard the one behind him open.

‘Yuuri, hello. Victor tells me you’re coming over later? Should be fun,’ Chris was slipping his arms into the sleeves of a tan leather jacket, pulling the door shut behind him as he stepped into the hallway. His hair looked as though he had just rolled out of bed, but he always held it so well.

‘Yeah, it will be, Phichit got some bottles earlier. What’s the dress code?’ Yuuri had pulled the door back shut as he spoke, hoping that Chris hadn’t caught sight of Phichit in his boxers.

‘You’re welcome to come however you want, as long as you don’t come too early,’ Chris winked as he said this, sauntering down the hallway as his phone started ringing. Yuuri raised his eyebrow, glad that Chris had left before turning back to his apartment. He opened the door to Phicihit standing on the couch, hands on his head, frozen in disbelief at the final challenge on Wheel of Fortune. He almost turned on his heel and walked back out the door, but Phichit turned around before he had the chance.

‘Didn’t you get my text?’ He stepped off the couch and into his open room, returning with his hair slicked back, and his phone in his hand.

‘How did it-’ Yuuri was stopped when Phichit interrupted him.

‘We have an hour before the party!’ Phichit had left the room again. Yuuri walked over to the ottoman, opening the middle compartment and placing the freshly laundered towels down gently.

Phichit re-entered not 2 minutes later, wearing a stone grey shirt tucked into a pair of granite pressed trousers, his belt buckle shining in the light he had turned on as he stepped into the room.

‘How did you-’ Again Yuuri was interrupted. He frowned, while he watched Phichit fumble with his cufflinks.

‘You _need_ to dress to impress, Yuuri. That’s my motto,’ he had slipped his cufflinks into place, and stood up straight. Yuuri was always impressed with how quickly Phichit could pull himself together.

‘I thought your motto was ‘always drink from the carton’. I remember, because you maintained eye contact while you finished our milk, and whispered, ‘it asserts dominance’,’ Yuuri made his way into his room as he spoke, and Phichit followed, shaking his head.

‘No, _this_ is the motto. Dress to impress. It _always_ works,’ Phichit opened Yuuri’s wardrobe, which revealed a host of jumpers and shirts in subtle, muted colours. Phichit pulled various shirts out, assessing their quality while Yuuri sat on the bed, scrolling through his phone. He now followed both Chris and Victor on Instagram, both of whom had followed him back. This had caused his follower list to surge in numbers slightly, which meant he had hesitated when uploading his 5th picture of Starbucks that week. Victor’s last post showed him and Chris on the subway with a poster of themselves in the background, and it had accumulated over 17,000 likes.

‘Here,’ Phichit threw a shirt and some trousers at Yuuri, who held them up and laughed.

‘This hasn’t fit me since I was a _freshman_ ,’ he stretched the waistband of the trousers, and Phichit looked at him reproachfully.

‘Oh, right, I forgot, you fell victim to the “ _Freshman Fifteen_ ”,’ he made air quotes around this, and Yuuri subconsciously sucked in his gut. Phichit rolled his eyes.

‘Relax, you carry the weight _well_. I’m just saying,’ he pulled out a black shirt that still had the price tag on it, which he ripped off and threw at Yuuri. He fished out a pair of grey trousers, and threw these at Yuuri too, who nodded his approval. He stood up and started changing, while Phichit rummaged through his top drawer.

‘Hey, can you not-’ Phichit snorted as his hands came into contact with a pack of condoms.

‘Hoping you’re gonna get lucky?’ Phichit continued to rummage, until his hands met the tub of hair gel he was looking for. Yuuri snorted, while Phichit carefully removed his glasses while he buttoned his shirt. When Yuuri was done, Phichit dropped a dollop of gel into his hands.

‘Now, hair! Slick it back, you’re gonna look so suave. Like a Japanese Bond,’ Phichit made guns with his hands as he left the room, and Yuuri did as he was told. Now the party was upon him, he was starting to feel nervous. The only crowd he was truly comfortable in was the crowd of a lecture theatre, and that was because he could hold his own in an academic face off. Here, in the hallowed halls of Providence Place, he was not as articulate as he would have liked. The smooth, collected individuals that rented here were always well dressed, poised and ready for a high-powered New York that Yuuri was definitely not ready for.

He stood up, slipping his feet into the black loafers that Phichit had bought him over the summer. They fit comfortably, and Phichit was constantly trying to get Yuuri into more fashionable clothes. When he left his room, Phichit let out a low whistle, before throwing a velvet smoking jacket over to him. Yuuri did not catch it, instead it slipped through his fingers, and fell to the floor.

‘Remind me why I can’t wear my glasses again?’ he sighed as he bent to pick up the jacket, slipping his arms into the sleeves. He knew this was probably going overboard, but Phichit was right. This was a different world to Yuuri’s comfortable jumpers, his usual look an homage to his college-faring ways. He turned back into his room so he could slip his glasses into the inside pocket as Phichit spoke.

'Because number one, you won’t talk to anyone at the party if you can tell who they are, and number two, you look smoking hot like that,’ Yuuri heard the wink in his voice, and shook his head in response. 

'Hot is not my middle name. It might be yours, but mine is 'hopelessly awkward’.’ Yuuri ran his hands over his hair again. He felt nervous, and uncomfortable.

He was not ready for this party.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So yes, okay, I'm a sucker for Chubby Yuuri, but I just wanna give it some realism! (And he's precious and my fave).  
> I prefer Phichit in this chapter, but I guess that's how Sitcoms work, you get more character as you go through! I'll be working on the next chapter, so keep an eye out!!
> 
> Edit: I forgot that I stole the 'come too early' joke from the show but I just had to I'm sorry I'm not sorry


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